


Becoming

by pipermca



Series: Prompts and Things [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Gen, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Spoilers, robot gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca
Summary: As another seizure wracked his frame, Bluestreak tried to figure out where, exactly, things had gone so terribly wrong.





	Becoming

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Становясь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510759) by [Gonshyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gonshyk/pseuds/Gonshyk)



> This story takes place at some point after Lost Light #12 but before Lost Light #18. It also contains spoilers for Lost Light #18-20.

As another seizure wracked his frame, Bluestreak tried to figure out where, exactly, things had gone so terribly wrong.

Things were fine when Rodimus and the others took off and left them all behind. Or rather, Bluestreak **thought** they left the ship of their own accord. That part seemed a bit fuzzy. Then there had been that ugliness with Thunderclash in the shuttle bay that he was still confused about. 

But then! Then they had reached Cyberutopia! Except... it wasn’t what they were expecting. 

That part Bluestreak remembered with crystal clarity.

He writhed as he felt his wiring and internal fluids grow even hotter, burning as his cables elongated and stretched and changed. Somewhere behind him, he could hear someone screaming. Gritting his dentae to keep from crying out himself, Bluestreak focused his attention on trying to recall what happened next, rather than the torment this virus was inflicting on him.

After landing, they discovered that Cyberutopia was barren, empty of mechs and any substance. It looked like the back side of those sets in Hollywood on Earth: designed to look great from just one angle, but as soon as you moved to the side you could see through the illusion.

It was around that time that Scorponok showed up. And... he joined the crew? That part baffled Bluestreak, but he knew Getaway had a great explanation for it. It had seemed so **reasonable** when Getaway had explained it, even if Bluestreak couldn’t remember any of the details.

And now this. Bluestreak stared down at his hands through optics narrowed in pain, watching as his fingers elongated into dangerous talons.

Somewhere, during one of those events, things had gone awry. Bluestreak just could not figure out exactly when.

Another spasm shook him as his protoform mutated under his armor. His cabling had become long and sinewy, blackened with grease. He watched in morbid fascination as two cables emerged from his elbow joint and twined around each other, becoming thick and knotted. 

Oh, Primus, it hurt. It felt like he was being turned inside out. 

Maybe he was.

He needed a medic. Ratchet... Where was Ratchet? Oh, right. He had left with the others. So had that new doctor, Velocity. Where was First Aid? He had come back, right? Bluestreak vaguely remembered the quiet medic coming back to the Lost Light, but... Had he left again? Groaning as more cables pulled themselves out of his back and legs, Bluestreak found he could not piece that part of the puzzle together.

Hoist! Hoist was still here. With an effort, Bluestreak lifted his helm and found the engineer, afflicted with the same virus that had attacked them all. Hoist sat on the ground and simply stared straight ahead, his confusion evident in his optics. Confusion and worry. 

Beside Hoist, Hound had crumpled to his hands and knees, but he was struggling to lift himself. His blue optics were now a pale yellow, and thick black cords whipped around him, plunging into armor seams. A thick liquid, like coagulated energon, drooled from Hound’s mouth as he pounded his fist against the ground and uttered a guttural roar of pure rage.

Before Bluestreak could do more than reach towards the third in command, the world spun. He was being gripped by thick black cords that – no, the cords were a part of him. They were his own cabling, gripping him, bracing against the ground and lifting him into the air. They twisted him onto his back, and began squeezing into every gap in his armor. He suddenly knew why Hound was fighting: he was being pulled apart from the inside. Armor was loosened, fuel lines were pulled out, his innards were ripped and rearranged.

It hurt. It burned. It was **agony**. As Bluestreak opened his mouth to scream, one of the cords dove into his intake, its rough surface gouging up the inside of his throat. Bluestreak’s optics went wide as he retched, but the cord slithered in deeper. It snaked down into his fuel tank, where it punched holes in his tank walls and began destroying what was left of his major systems.

Bluestreak knew, with sudden clarity, that he was going to die.

And that’s when the virus started overwriting his core programming.

He’d been getting the warnings on his HUD about the things being done to his body, the changes that were being wrought to his frame and chassis. The warnings had been alarming, but feeling them happen had been even worse. Bluestreak didn’t think it could get worse.

Now it was getting worse.

Bit by bit, he felt pieces of himself slip away. The very things that made him **who he was** were being erased, and replaced with fury and an unspeakable hunger.

Scraps of memory surfaced as they were deleted.

_Laughing at Starscream as he cringed away from a comatose Megatron in his cell._

Summoning the last bit of strength he could, mental and physical, Bluestreak squirmed in the bonds formed by his own body. If he could just... If only he could... 

_Grimly tightening a bolt on the shuttle they were building in the desert on Earth._

Feeling the last few ashes of what made him Bluestreak waft away from him, Bluestreak finally screamed out his pain and rage. 

_Watching Kaon smash Trailcutter’s brain on the wall of his forcefield._

Not like this. Frag it all, he didn’t want to go out like this! After everything he’d lived through, everything he’d survived, everything he’d seen and done... He didn’t want to die like this!

**Not like this!**

**Author's Note:**

> So as sometimes happens to me, there was a panel in Lost Light 20 that grabbed me and simply wouldn’t let go. You know... [That panel.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/669cf01c61a0bba1cc1b40e00ebe4ad2/tumblr_inline_pbs95xg6Ug1rms9gi_500.jpg) So I had to write this. :)
> 
> This story has been [translated into Russian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510759) by [Gonshyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gonshyk/pseuds/Gonshyk).


End file.
